Yankee Bayonet
by sailorgreywolf
Summary: As the Civil War breaks out in America, the Confederacy and Texas maintain a correspondence throughout the highs and lows of the war. Their letters tell the tale of their victories and their defeat.


The first letter arrived by way of a messenger riding a proud chestnut palfrey, his uniform dirtied from the road. The Confederacy had been awaiting this letter with some urgency.

As soon as the parchment was firmly in her hand, she turned toward the manor house, wanting only to get inside to read the words. Her own fate now hung in the balance. She sat on the porch and broke the seal of the letter.

* * *

My dearest Annabelle,

I know not how to best convey the news to you, so I will state it plainly so that you may come to terms with it. Lincoln has rejected all our negotiations for peace, and we have no choice but to move forward. Alfred refused to even talk to me, claiming that I was now nothing more than a rebel in his eyes. It frightens me to hear my brother's words echoed again in a different voice.

He has made his stance clear and now war must follow. I do not know how you will take this news, and I fervently wish I could be with you now to share in your sorrow and your hope. I would wrap my arms around you and hold you close, the way you did me after the Alamo fell. Please take heart that this is not an end, but a beginning. This is where our liberation begins.

I remember the first battles of my own revolution and the enthusiasm that came with them. I did not know if I would live another day, but every morning I felt a surge of hope. I knew then that my fate was my own to shape, and that alone kept me going.

But I also remember the feeling of betrayal that came with the breaking of ties. Even though I despised my brother, it was hard to face the fact that I would never again be a part of him. I grew to love him and to hate him, as I confided to must now face the same with Alfred, and I wish I could shield you from those feelings. All I can do is encourage you the way you did me.

A scrimmage over a canon would have never resulted in my independence if not for your unwavering love. You gave me the strength to leave Alejandro and I am grateful for it. Now I will do everything in my power to support you.

I have full faith in our ability to win this war. Please take faith in that. I was yours heart body and soul before you placed a ring on my finger. I will give my life for your happiness without a single thought. Tell me where to go from here and I will follow without question. If you want to attack your brother, I will carry out that order. Until I hear from you, I will chart a course back to Austin.

With all my love,

Diego

* * *

My sweet Diego,

We both knew that it may come to this. I will not apologize for my brother's behavior, but it does hurt me to hear that he caused you pain. You have suffered enough at the hand of the powerful and cruel.

If he seeks to label us as rebels, then let us take it as our own label and use it with pride. I will fly my flag whether it pleases him or not. If it is rebellion to see Alfred's tyranny, then so be it. I will not allow him to control my choices any longer, and if I must use military power then I will. I am within my rights to act as I will without the constraint of my brother. You know the longing for freedom better than anyone, and now I feel the same fire in my heart. Would you tell me to snuff it out the way that Alfred wishes to?

I cannot be still, not with such provocation. When I received your letter, I had my charger saddled and immediately rode to South Carolina. My own rage is far beyond the bounds of my sex. It burns so bright I can see it in my own eyes in the looking glass. It is no longer a question of desire, but a question of necessity. I need to fight back against the sibling who so readily denied me, as you once did yours. I rode through the night until I reached the coast, stopping only to give my horse rest.

To preface my story, please do not worry about me, my dear husband. I am perfectly safe. Before the day broke I ordered a warning to be fired at Fort Sumter. The cannons sang out their thunderous song into the black morning. I could see the fort, ugly thing that it is, silhouetted by the light of the explosions.

They did not surrender, even when surrounded by our guns. It was so typical of Alfred's arrogance that I could not restrain myself. He has always chosen to ignore what I want in favor of his own selfish ends. Now I will show him that I can fight back. I ordered the bombardment to continue until there was a surrender.

I know that you would willingly fight for me, but I cannot allow you to fight in my stead. I may be a woman, but this is my freedom.

It is a black velvet night as I write these words, and my words are given new strength by victory. It happened as the sun was high in the sky and the sun shone strong through the smoke of the canons. A lookout spotted a small boat at the base of the fort. The commander came out himself and waved a white handkerchief to show his surrender. I could see my brother's likeness in his face, and seeing him desperate for my mercy made my heart beat fast. Is this how it felt when you drove the Mexican forces out of Bexar?

I have thought long into the night about what action I should take next. I am alive and confident in a way that I have felt fair few times in my existence. I wish you were here with me tonight, if only to see the stars that shine as clearly as our victory.

I remember that the stars were brilliant the night we met. Do you remember that ball? Do you remember the way our eyes met from across the room? I remember the flutter in my heart when I met your eyes well. I knew in that moment that we had a shared destiny.

I cannot make this decision on my own, that would deny the autonomy of the states for which we fight. Come to me in Montgomery, I will summon representatives there from all the states. We will decide our course of action from there. May the miles between us be short; I yearn to see you again.

Your faithful wife,

Annabelle Jones

* * *

~The Diary of Alfred Jones~

April 16, 1861

Dear Diary,

I have not confided in you since I fought with Arthur, but I have no one else to turn to. What have I done so wrong to deserve this? To be so alone? At night I swear I can hear the wind in these empty halls.

Mathew will not speak to me, no matter how much I write to him. In his heart he still loves Arthur and he does not approve of my acts of disobedience. Now my own sister turns away from me, calls me a tyrant. I only ask her to do what is right for all the people, is that so wrong of me?

I remember when we used to play as children. She would steal my wooden soldiers as soon as I turned my back, if only for the joy of watching my frantically search for them. Then she would hand them back to me, flower braids around their shoulders. Her smile was always sweet, and when I injured myself with my reckless play she always cared for me. Her sweet smile was always there for me, even when Arthur could not be bothered to care.

When did I lose that? Was it when our representatives fought in the senate? Or did it come before that? Was it when we were fighting over every piece of soil which could be free and which slave owning? No, I think it came even before that.

I have always had to compromise with her, even though I am her older brother. I heeded her when she urged me to fight for Texas against Mexico. Did I not spend my own blood to free the man she now calls husband? Did I not sever ties with Alejandro, who could have been a friend to me now?

I did all of this for her, and yet she fights me must she be so headstrong? It is not natural in a woman. She fights me on every subject and always has; I accept that that is her nature. But now I hear news that she has attacked Fort Sumter. This is a new extreme, even for her. I can tell now that this is no longer a childish squabble. If she is willing to use gunpowder and blades, I must as well.

Mr. Lincoln says that there will be war, and I can think of little I want less. I don't want to tear up her land or my own for this war, but I will do what I must.

Now I can hear the muster, the call to arms. My people do not want to watch my sister slip away (I refuse to call her the Confederacy, for that is not her name), so I will not let her. She does not have the means to defeat me in war, even if she has trade.

Still, I wonder if I am at fault. Did I do something to chase her so far away? I used to be able to calm her.

Is it because I let her marry a man who betrayed his brother? Texas was a mistake, and I know that now. His soul is rebellious and he has encouraged my sister in her own rebellion, I have no doubt. I would give him back to Alejandro in a moment. I would give Francis his land back; even without receiving my money in return. I want nothing more than to be just 13 states again. Just Annabelle and I and those flower braids.

* * *

My love,

I am glad to report that the muster you asked for goes well; my people are eager at the chance to show their conviction for freedom. We are a spirited people by our nature. It is the only trait I am not ashamed to say I share with my brother. My people are glad to fight for you, just as I am.

I wish that I could send you only these happy tidings, but the truth is that all is not as we wished. I have lost the man I put the most absolute trust in.

Houston, who was my loyal general and friend, has left me because I swear loyalty to you. I tried to speak to him, to convince him to see my perspective. But, the man who stood at my right hand at San Jacinto told me to my face that I was a fool. He said that my mind was clouded by my own temper and my love for you. He told me, I remember the words exactly, "Even if you did win this war, and you will not, you will have paid for it in blood and flesh."

I am already ashamed of the words hurled at him. I defended you, told him that if you had abandoned me in my time of need he would have wasted away in a Mexican prison. And yet, all I remember is the look of sheer disappointment in his eyes. He is the closest thing I have ever had to a father and he looked at me as though I had completely lost my way.

He has known me through the worst of circumstances. When I feared that Santa Anna would overtake my army and my brother would put me to the sword, he soothed me and spoke to me of our strategy. He was firm, but he has always been kind to me.

How can he turn from me now? How can he call me a fool when he knows my nature better than any man alive?

I swear on everything that is Holy that I still believe in our cause, but I cannot reconcile these events. I do not care if I lose hundred, even thousands of men to the Union, but I cannot lose this one. I love you, Annabelle, but I love him as well. I never conceived that I would have to choose between you.

So, it is with a heaviness that I cannot shake that I watch the young men dress in their new uniforms and speak with anticipation of defeating the Yankees. The joy I felt at our declaration that we would fight for our own liberty has been lost to me now. I am gladdened by the sight of the troops that I will send to assist you, but the feeling is gone. I will send all that I can muster to you.

As I write, I am looking at the portrait of you that I keep always on my person, and it reminds me of what I am really fighting for. Write back swiftly, my love. Send me sweet words, written in your hand, so that I may read them every time this doubt creeps back.

Unshakably yours,

Diego

* * *

My dear Diego,

I wish I had not told you to leave, although I know the importance of your troops. I wish I could have saved you from the cruel words of an old man.

I know what Houston means to you, but this is his mistake not yours. When we win, I hope that he will come back to you. I wish that I could hold you in my arms now. I long to kiss your lips and stroke your hair, to tell you that nothing matters but our love for each other. Please know that my love is limitless, and I hope to comfort you with only these words. You have always been a blessing to me. Always having you by my side has given me strength.

Your soldiers will be put to good use, for I fear that the war will soon begin in earnest. I am glad to have my capital of Richmond and the loyalty of General Lee after fearing I would lose both to my brother. There can be no doubt that Virginia, where my own heart lies, is the key to the South. However, I know that this is where Alfred will likely strike first. I must strike at Washington before he can do so.

As a wait at this lonely encampment, with only the small town of Manassas Junction nearby, I can't help but feel that the world is about to break open. Either I will push forward or Alfred will attack me.

I must make this brief, my sweet husband, I hear artillery fire.

Your wife,

Annabelle

* * *

My dearest husband,

I write to you now in the glow of victory. I hope this letter reaches you swiftly so that my last letter does not unnerve you.

Alfred's commander was too eager to route us. He must have had visions of advancing to Richmond clouding his view of the battle. The Yankee's arrogance was his undoing and I now have my victory.

They struck at our position on Henry Hill when the first rays of the morning sun broke the sky. The canon balls began to rain down, but they were few and far between. As the first shouts of battle sounded, I readied my musket and saber. I knew that my bayonet was sharp and my soul was hardened, both ready for purpose.

I chose to fight in the thick of it. For if I cannot support my men with my own strength, what claim can I make to be their country? I know that Alfred hides in Washington behind his president. He thinks he can win this war from afar. But, I will not make the same mistake. Perhaps when I arrive on his doorstep he will take me seriously.

As the Yankees charged forward, I thought for a moment that I may have to retreat. They had forded Bull Run, striking at our flank before we were ready for it. They outnumbered us and were pressing down hard.

The air was thick with the smoke of muskets and I saw young men on either side of me cut down by the hail of bullets. But it is a glorious sacrifice they make, shedding their blood for the cause in which they believe. I heard the command to stand strong and only charge with the bayonet when we were close. As I write to you now, I still hear the battle cry in my ears. It quickens my heart as it should strike fear into Alfred's.

As I charged forward, I knew no fear or hesitation. I cannot say how I knew it, but I knew that this moment was triumph. To see true fear in the enemy's men's eyes as I descended upon them, my bayonet shining was the stuff of life.

I did not hear the news that the Yankee guns had been captured until the line had pushed the Yankees back over the river. A company had been able to capture the artillery, and the battle was won.

I wish you could have seen the way my brother's forces fled, it was enough to give my tired body strength again.

I walked back through the field of battle. I never saw casualties like this when Alfred fought against Arthur. But I know these boys will be remembered as martyrs.

When you send your brigades East, come with them yourself. I ache with the distance between us. I do not think Alfred will strike at you, and I need you here with me.

With love,

Annabelle

* * *

~The Diary of Alfred Jones~

July 30,1861

Dear Diary,

What farce is this? I know my forces outnumbered hers two to one, so how can this victory be hers? My commander was capable. Mr. Lincoln promised me a swift victory. I was hurt when I saw my army return beaten. No, even more than that. What word should I use? Broken? Disheartened? This was not supposed to happen. I was supposed to have Richmond in my hand by now.

Did my delicate sister fight herself or did she command from afar? I wish I had been there myself to have the answers. I do not know if she is the same girl that I grew up with or if she has become a woman I do not know. All that I can be certain of now is that she is my enemy. She has proven it with gunpowder, steel, and blood.

Now I hear tell that she is drawing soldiers to her from all of her states. I can be certain that Texas, the detestable traitor, is with her. I know he dominates her and forces her into this action.

No matter, I must focus on myself. My next move must be to shore up my own defenses. With her victory at Bull Run, Annabelle moves dangerously close. Instead of forcing her to defend Richmond, I may soon have to defend Washington from her.

Another of my siblings may burn my capital to the ground. The cinders have only just been reformed into a capital since Matthew had burned it. This is a cruel twist of fate, it has to be.

The only answer that I can received from Congress and Mr. Lincoln is that I must break Annabelle's hold on trade. I have more naval strength than her, but I do not know if it will be enough. Even if she loses New Orleans, there will still be a trade route through Texas.

That is the answer! I will see if the Lone Star Republic remembers what it is like to fight on his own soil. Galveston is too important for him to lose, and I shall see to it that he loses it. But first I should defend myself.

* * *

~The Diary of Alfred Jones~

April 8, 1862

Dear Diary,

The news has come from the front again, and I am beginning to wonder if I am going mad. I cannot have lost again. I win only piecemeal victories and lose when the stakes are high. What do I care if Grant was able to conquer a few forts if he can lose so many in a surprise attack?

How can this be happening to me? Was I mad to ever imagine that I could be the hero of this story? I thought I could be the one to bring the country back together, to stitch my broken family together again.

But now I wonder if I am just a helpless bystander. I hear the wailing of mothers who have lost their sons to this war. My own president mourns his son, even though the boy was not killed in combat. I do not want this carnage. This is not what I fought against Arthur for. I wanted a republic, true and just and united. Not this. Not war and blood. I did not want to see young men, barely in their prime consigned to crutches after losing limbs to canon fire.

I just want peace, but I will not take it at the cost of my sister. I do not know how this bloodshed does not hurt her the same way it hurts me. She is a woman and should have the maternal instinct to suffer for all the women who have lost their children and husbands. I do not understand how she has become so cold. If I thought she would answer, I would write to her and explain the pain she is causing.

I don't know where to turn. All I can do is press forward and hope the tide will soon turn.

* * *

My dearest Annabelle,

How can I express fully how empty my bed feels without you in it? I cannot find the words to tell you the way I miss your warm smile every morning. I hate the way this war continues to separate us. When we were married, I vowed that I would be by your side for the rest of my existence. I meant the words that I said, "Till death do we part." Now, as I watch the calm ocean in Galveston, I find myself resenting this war for keeping us apart.

The intelligence that Alfred would continue his assault of our ports by attacking here seems well founded. I can see the ships just on the horizon, holding their blockade. The anticipation can be felt through the city. I do not believe that the Yankees will be content with just a blockade. I hear news that they move closer to Sabine Pass and I fear that an attack will be eminent.

My every nerve is tense, telling me that I will soon have to fight. I do not fear combat if I am fighting for your cause. I am, although I loathe to admit it, my mother's son and I can thank her for my urge to throw myself into battle for those I love.

I have, with great trepidation, sent a messenger to my brother. His next move may destroy us or it may strengthen our position. If he chooses to continue to trade with us, then I can make sure that Alfred's blockades will not cut off our income.

But I know that Alejandro makes a habit of holding grudges and that his hate for me knows no bounds. If he takes this moment to exact revenge on me, then all may be lost. I dare not speak to him myself for fear the very sight of me will turn him against us.

I will await your command and hope for your success. I rejoice in the news of every victory you win, and only wish I could share the moment with you. The way you shine with patriotic glory is beyond beautiful, it is divine. I will eagerly await the news of your campaign into your brother's territory.

Your faithful husband,

Diego

* * *

Dearest Diego,

My hands are shaking as I write this letter. I wish I could bring you happy tidings, but I cannot. I must have become far too confident in my victories. I have taken one risk too many in pursuing this Northern coarse of action.

We were ambushed at dawn by the Yankee forces. I knew that I had defensive position and was ready to throw off a larger force as I have done before on my own soil. But the way that the air filled with musket shot was not something from this world.

If ever war could resemble the deepest reaches of Hell, it did in that moment. The corn fields turned to pandemonium as every man attempted to fight for their survival. There was no semblance of military order in that conflict. Men on either side shed their blood and did not gain a single foot of ground.

I wish I could speak to you about the bravery with which fought, but that seems to be trite in this moment. Yesterday that would have seemed important, before the Earth was stained red with the blood of so many men. I cannot say that I saw bravery or glory in any of those moments. This is not what war should be; this is senseless carnage.

When the fighting broke at midday, I walked through the field. Men, no boys, laid scattered between the corn stalks. I came across a young man kneeling at the side of his friend. Without a thought, I kneeled beside him. I cannot say what called me to this one out of all my soldiers, but his plight tore at my heart.

The man, and I call him such hesitantly because by my reckoning he could be no more than eighteen, who laid dying wore the insignia of Louisiana. His gold hair was matted and red with blood. I could see that he had a musket ball lodged in his thigh and another in his shoulder. But the cause of his death was undoubtedly the slash across his abdomen, the clear signature of a Yankee bayonet. Never have I seen a complexion so pale, so bloodless.

When he saw me, he smiled weakly. I took his hand as he spoke in slow gasping breathes, "Please, angel, take me away from this Hell." There was nothing but fear in his eyes as he spoke his final words. His hand tightened with all his strength on my own. He said, and I will always remember the simplicity of those words, "Tell my mother I'm sorry to leave her. Tell her to be proud of me." With a final shaking breath, he expired like so many. I closed his eyes so that he may look like he found peace.

Never once have I doubted my convictions, but after seeing so many cut down like that brave boy only for defeat, I begin to wonder if I have not made some terrible mistake. I know that my soul craves nothing but freedom, but Alfred's stubbornness will kill many more. If he would just let us go, then there would be no pain left. Does it not hurt him as well?

Your words bring me solace beyond what I can express. Write to me and affirm that I am right in what I do.

Faithfully yours,

Annabelle

* * *

My love,

I have delayed writing to you because I did not want to send you more ill tidings when I knew they would not last. A month ago I lost Galveston to the Yankee forces, but I knew that it would not last long. This is not Alfred's land, and he does not know it as I do. After reading your last letter, I did not want to bring you more news of loss and bloodshed.

As I write now, I can report with joy that I have regained my port. It is a new year, and I have won back what I shamefully lost little more than a month ago.

In the early morning, I mounted a full scale assault against Galveston, both by land and by sea. I ordered that no mercy should be taken on the forces that dared to occupy our city. As we pulled close to the Yankee ship, I shouldered my rifle and took careful aim. I could feel my heart thundering in my chest, but my aim was steady. Each shot landed precisely where I meant it to.

When we boarded the Yankee ship, many already laid dead on the deck. I knew that many had been felled by my own hand. As I saw their faces, I thought nothing of it. We are at war and we must treat those against us as our enemies. Losses on our own side must be expected as well. What is a few corpses against the beauty of seeing them destroy their own ships out of desperation as they did today?

Alfred should have learned from the Alamo that I always avenge my losses. He will not try to attack here again. My people are too unified against him to ever fall to him. I am not needed here, so I chart a course East so that I may be by your side again. I hope that this news brings you the joy that it brings me and refresh your spirit.

With all my love,

Diego

* * *

~The Diary of Alfred Jones~

July 3, 1863

Dear Diary,

I have won! Won at a bloody cost, but I have still won and that is all that matters. The rebels flee back to the South with nothing but shame to carry. After so long, my sister has finally begun to crack. I knew that this day would eventually come.

I should be listening to what Mr. Lincoln is saying, but I must record these events while they are still fresh in mind. The details of the conflict are not important, for they only obscure the glory of the end. This is the first battle I have fought in myself and the spectacle of it only strengthens the pride I feel for my young soldiers. This is a new kind of warfare, but they stand strong against the musket fire and the volleys of cannon fire.

I came face to face with my sister on Cemetery Hill. I expected to see her here, but I did not think that we would cross blades.

Her eyes were ice as she looked at me. The sweet little girl I knew so long ago is lost beneath all those layers of hate. Does she believe herself to be the Confederacy, my rival? I do not think she can be that far gone.

I could see that there was blood on her sleeves, both old and fresh. Pieces of her hair had broken lose from her braid and flowed in the wind around her face. I could not bring myself to fire, even while artillery fire impacted around us.

Instead, reckless as I have always been, I charged at her with my bayonet. I caught her rifle with my own and knocked it from her hands. For a moment, she was vulnerable. But, I do not wish to hurt her. I only want her to see the madness in her actions. I grabbed her and pulled her to me. She struggled against my hold, but I held her waist so that her back was against my chest. I remember the words that I spoke in her ear. They were the only ones I could come up with in the moment, "Is this what you wanted, sister? Look at the blood they spill for our feud."

I could have sworn I saw a tear roll down her cheek, cutting through the dirt and black powder. It could have all ended there. I had her in my arms and I think she began to understand that nothing would come from this savagery.

But, I forgot about Texas. I could not have mistaken that voice when it said, "Let her go, Yankee." He stood in front of me, his rifle shouldered and pointed directly at me. I did not doubt that he would shoot me. He has the eyes of the devil. They are so black that there cannot be a soul behind them. What choice did I have? I released her and let this war continue.

I let them escape for now, but this war is mine. Their army is shattered by this battle. Because Mr. Lincoln has officially emancipated the slaves, they can find no help abroad. I think Alejandro only continues to trade with his brother, who I have no doubt he hates, to spite me for assisting in Texas's independence. I will pursue with all my strength, for I know now that I am destined to win, to be the hero.

* * *

Dear Diego,

Again I regret sending you away. With the loss at Vicksburg, we are cleaved apart permanently. I hear that you have won victories in the West, and I am proud that you fight for me. And yet, there is nothing that I long for in this moment like I yearn for you.

Here I fear everything is lost. I know that they have cut deep into my heartland, and at the loss of Atlanta I begin to despair.

When this all began I was a woman, nay a Goddess, but now I am a little girl again. I am made helpless by my losses, left alone to wait for an end. I feel more lost than I ever have before. Now it is not just the soldiers that suffer for my failures. My citizens lose their lands and their livelihoods for a war that they cheered for. Were they naive or was I?

This has all been a terrible mistake and as I wait here in Richmond, I know that this is the very end. And yet, I can not bring myself to order a surrender. Ours are a strong people and we will not give in to Alfred, even if it hurts us. Am I a fool to think that perhaps there is one more counteroffensive in this breaking body of mine?

Tell your men to fight on until they can fight no longer, but come to me now. The pain I feel is constant and I know that you will be able to soothe me. I begin to fade. There must still be some way for you to get past the Yankees and reach me. Find it, please. If you ever loved me, come to me now.

I do not know how long I may have left. I feel something burning.

Annabelle

* * *

Alfred,

I write to you now even though I know you bear no love for me. But, I do not write for my own sake. Annabelle grows weaker by the day, as you well know. You may think me soft or sentimental, but I cannot watch her die.

Remember, if you still have the heart to, that she is your sister. She is your own flesh and blood, the one who played with you as a child. She who held you as doubted you could ever win against Arthur. You cannot truly wish for her die for her rebellion. Whatever her faults in your eyes, she is still your sister. I beg you now to end this war and save her life.

I wish you could see the wounds that have been inflicted on her body, then perhaps you would recognize your own folly. The burns left by your march to the sea will never heal properly, the scars will run deep.

She shakes constantly from the pain they cause her, and I cannot bring myself to watch her any longer. I cannot, with the strength I have left, do anything to help her. Only you can end this. Will you not stop the pain? You have won this war, so why must you continue to hurt her?

I propose that we meet so that I may have peace terms to bring back to your sister. She is far too weak to travel herself.

In truth, she does not know that I am writing to you. She is as stubborn as you are and will not accept that this war will kill her. I believe that if I have a peace to present to her, then she will accept. If she hates me for deceiving her, I will take it. I would rather have her scorn than to not have her at all.

With all my heart I beg you to meet me at any place of your choosing. Our fate's are in your hands and the decision is yours.

Cordially,

Texas

* * *

 _A/N: Yes this does take place on the same time line as Legacy. I hope you enjoyed it. I tried something very different here in writing in the epistolary and I would love to have some feedback_


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